


Pinky? And the Brain

by roidadidou



Category: Animaniacs, Pinky and the Brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roidadidou/pseuds/roidadidou
Summary: Did Pinky always have that deep, Slavic accent?





	

Two small figures sat in a dimly lit room. One overhead lamp illuminated their faces for conversation. It swung slightly back and forth, casting a moving shadow on both of their faces.  


“Here in America, your name is Pinky. Your intelligence level is below average, and you frequently say things like ‘narf’ and ‘poit.’”  


“Is English words?” Replied a deep voice, stricken with a thick Slavic accent.  


“No. Complete gibberish. Say them often.” A picture of a mouse with a large head was held up.  


“This is your best friend. His name is Brain. Remember this. You will leave for Burbank, California tomorrow.”  


“I see, I see. Thank you. You help me very much.”  


The first figure smiled.  


“It’s no trouble at all, really.”  
___  


Acme Labs opened at eight in the morning, usually starting experiments at nine. Only two mice in the laboratory woke before that. When Brain sat up and rubbed the grit out of his eyes, the other side of his bed was empty.  


“Good morning, best friend Brain!” Came an unusually deep response. When Brain looked for the source, it seemed to be Pinky, sitting right in front of the television.  


“... Are you playing some sort of character?” Brain asked, walking over.  


“Ah, I, eh… No! Is sore throat, yes, yes.”  


Brain raised an eyebrow.  


“American television, very good, you notice? Eh, narf!”  


Immediately after the sentence was finished, the television screen popped, and flashed to black. When Pinky turned around, Brain was standing on the ‘power’ button of the remote, glaring at him.  


“... Who are you? Where is Pinky?”  


Pinky twiddled his thumbs nervously.  


“Have no idea what you mean, best friend Brain. I am Pinky, I say the ‘narfs’ and ‘poits’, like Brain’s best friend Pinky would!” He smiled, anxiety ridden in his voice. Very suddenly, the clock struck eight.  


“Oh, no! We have to be at the Warner Brothers studio at nine, Pinky!” He paused. “If that is your real name.”  


“Yes, yes! I am Pinky!” He replied cheerfully.  


The other mouse lowered his brow, squinting.  


“If you are Pinky, you will remember where we placed our scripts for today’s recording.” Pinky tapped his fingertips together.  


“Eh, yes… But I am Pinky, not very smart, is that right?”  


“You did your research.”  


“Good! Then let’s go!” Pinky replied, smiling. Brain pulled up the mattress of their bed, taking out both of their scripts, and thrusting Pinky’s into his arms.  


“This conversation is not over. If the real Pinky is not safe, there will be your head to pay.” His pink eyes stared daggers into the other’s blue. Pinky gulped.  


“Narf.”  
___  


“Oy, you’ve gotten everything wrong today, you have!” The director yelled, crouching down on the set to Pinky’s height.  


“You squat wrong,” was Pinky’s only reply. “Heel should be on ground, yes. Feel better that way.”  


“That doesn’t matter, it doesn’t! You did great yesterday, little pinky mouse! What happened today? Tell me, I’ll make it better, I will!”  


“I don’t know, I am just happy to be here.”  


“Ugh… Take five minutes, froinlaven!”  


Brain took off his costume and sauntered towards the snack table. After sitting down at the meal table with his food, his break was interrupted by Pinky talking to the other crew members.  


“... And I say, ‘Who take fruit out of grandmama’s kompot? Only fools drink kompot without fruit!’” Laughter ensued, only irritating Brain more. How he hated that Slavic accent. He tried to ignore it, but the stories continued.  


“Did you always sound Russian, Pinky?” One of the cameramen asked innocently. Brain snapped.  


“Have you all gone insane?!” All attention transferred to him instantly.  


“This isn’t Pinky! This is some… Northern European imposter! The real Pinky is nowhere to be found and all you can do is laugh at his stories about fruit juice!”  


The director came forward, clearly angry.  


“Stop it, both of you, with the anger and the temper and the bad acting! Go home already!”  


The megalomaniac withdrew in his posture, glancing over to Pinky, who was already looking at him. Brain lowered his brow and grabbed Pinky’s wrist, pulling him off of the table. However, when he let go, his hand was wet… With white dye.  
___  


Pinky entered the cage solemnly.  


“Sorry I made you angry, best friend Brain. Eh, poit.”  


“Don’t worry about it… Best friend Pinky.” Came Brain’s monotone reply. His voice held a different tone, a calm, reliable one. But when Brain approached out of the shadows, he held a sharpened, vintage can opener in his arms. The other mouse became nervous, taking steps back.  


“Eh, ah, tell me, Brain, what is that for?” He stepped to the side, parallel to the cage’s bottle of water. Brain poised the can opener, ready to strike. Pinky was ready to pick a god and pray. The loud splitting noise was not in Pinky’s neck, however. When the taller mouse opened his eyes, he saw the kitchen tool in the water bottle. Very suddenly, it split open, and a quick rush of whooshing water soaked him. When the flood left, and only the sound of trickling drops leaving Pinky’s fur remained, he was no longer a pristine white, but now a dusty, ashen gray-brown.  


Brain pulled the can opener out of the water bottle, and now pointed it to the other.  


“It’s over. Who are you? What is your motive?”  


The other mouse looked down, guilty. He reached into his mouth and pulled out a retainer with two faux buck teeth in front.  


“Real name, Boris… I am mouse from alleyways of Czechoslovakia.” He wrung his hands. “In middle of night, I witness horrible thing. Murder. Then…Next day, new good friend come and tell me he take me to America, where murderer will not find me.”  


“So you take Pinky away, and replace him with yourself?”  


“I do no such thing! Have no idea who Pinky is, or what happen to him. Good friend tell me that I am now Pinky, and you are best friend Brain. He dye me white and give me teeth to look just like him.”  


“... Who is your good friend?”  


“Gold hamster. Name is Snowball.”  


Brain sneered, throwing the can opener to the side.  


“Of course, Snowball. Where did he tell you this? Where is his headquarters, his place of operation?”  


“Other town in this territory. Movie town… Forget name.”  


“Hollywood?”  


“Yes, yes! Hollywood! He take me there and tell me everything.”  


“Listen to me. Snowball is the opposite of anyone’s good friend. He’s manipulative, and I am sure he’s using you for some kind of ploy.”  


“Then why would Snowball do such nice things for me?”  


“... I don’t know. But if it has anything to do with me, which it does, then it doesn’t mean anything good for you. We have to leave immediately.”  
___  


Burbank is not far from Hollywood; it took a little less than half an hour to get there. Finding Snowball’s base, however, was the hard part. Boris knew exactly where it was, but he didn’t understand any of the signs or remember any other part of the town. Brain was at the end of his rope, but when they found the underground dwelling below a smoke shop, Brain knew it wasn’t over then.  


“Snowball!” Brain shouted in his alto monotone, standing his ground. Two pink eyes appeared in the dark room.  


“Brain.” Came the reply.  


“Did you really think I would fall for this? Pulling a random mouse off the street and replacing my only friend?”  


“Hopefully not. But it did occupy quite a bit of your time, didn’t it?”  


“Where is Pinky?”  


A light flickered on, and Snowball’s form was clear in the light. Next to him, restrained in a chair, was Pinky. He squirmed, but his speech was muffled by a strip of tape. Snowball ripped it off in one swift motion.  


“Brain! Oh, it’s horrible, zort! He made me watch all of Ron White’s stand-up comedy specials!”  


“Snowball, you fiend!” Brain shouted.  


“Why are you doing this?” Boris spoke up. “I thought you were saving me!”  


“No. In case none of you have noticed, this was one big trap.” The door behind them swung shut, and a click noise signified it was locked.  


“You see, Brain, I came to Czechoslovakia for business… And while I was… Taking care of said business, I ran into Boris here.”  


“... You were…” Boris muttered.  


“Yes, it was me you witnessed. It’s a good thing it was so dark outside, or you would have known it was me. But I couldn’t have you telling other people exactly what you saw, so the next day, I came to you and pretended to work with the Witness Protection Program. It just all fit together perfectly, I got so lucky.”  


“...You fell for that?” Brain paused, turning to Boris.  


“I just assumed there was division for mice.” Boris replied.  


“So what was this all for?” Pinky asked. Snowball pulled out a remote, and pushed the button. Out of the darkness, came an intricately-built laser, pointing directly at Brain’s nose.  


“To kill you.”  


Eyes wide, the short mouse trembled. A loud buzz rang through the room as various lights on the laser began to warm up. Luckily, Brain leaped out of the way before the laser zapped the ground where he stood. Behind him was a charred floor and wall. Boris was overwhelmed by the situation.  


“You used me!” He yelled.  


“That’s not something new, Boris!” Snowball replied, aiming the laser again. It zapped multiple times as Brain ran around the spacious room.  


“You can’t wait forever!” The sentence seemed almost cut off at the end, as Snowball was tackled to the ground by a lanky white mouse. Upon inspecting the chair where Pinky previously sat, one would notice he had gnawed through the ropes. The two of them fought over Snowball’s remote, but due to the distraction, Snowball didn’t notice Brain coming towards him until he had snatched the remote. In one move, he smashed it to the ground. The machine sputtered, and then went crazy, shooting all over the place. The four rodents were dumbfounded, but had no time to think as they were running about everywhere.  


“You’re an idiot! You shorted out the remote’s fuse!” Snowball shouted over the loud bangs of violent bursts of energy hitting the walls and floor.  


Out of nowhere, there was a loud twang, and the laser fell quiet. Everyone stopped to see a retainer hitting the floor, and looked up to see the laser’s power button glowing a dim red.  


“Boris see button, Boris push.” Boris replied. Everyone felt a breath of relief.  
___  


“Time for me to return to slums of Slavic Europe…” Boris muttered.  


“There are plenty of empty cages in Acme!” Pinky cheerfully replied.  


“But Brain, how did we get out of that mess?” He added as they walked home.  


“Probably by some means of plot convenience.” The other mouse muttered, and then stopped.  


“Boris, I owe you an apology. You were an innocent mouse caught in the crossfire between our feud.”  


“Haha, those words unfamiliar to me. But I forgive you. Do you do things like this every night?”  


“... That would depend on your definition of ‘thing.’”  


“Brain and I try to take over the world every night, poit!”  


“That sounds like fun! More fun than eating scraps in Czechoslovakian alley. Can I join?” The atmosphere was light and fun, and all three mice had bonded in that short period of time. In a very rare instance, Brain had a grin on his face. “Ha... no.”


End file.
